


Interlude

by Voido



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Confessions, Feelings, Fluff, M/M, Pining, Post-Season/Series 07, Pre Season/Series 08, canon-compliant before season 8, not for raisin, prompt-based
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 19:03:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16980060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Voido/pseuds/Voido
Summary: "I'm not what he wants, Shiro.""Maybe you're not. But who knows? Maybe you're just what he needs."------------The time to depart for their final battle has come, but there's just a few things that Keith knows have yet to be said.





	Interlude

**Author's Note:**

> My last Klance-piece before season 8 drops, aaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!  
> This is based on [this tweet](https://twitter.com/kaorusan241/status/1071413539510865922) because I'm weak for dialogue-based "prompts" but hey we been knew.  
> I really can't wait to see what season 8 has in store, with it being only ten hours away from now, and no matter what happens, Klance will always be the one true pairing of the show to me!! <3

It's the last day before their departure.

While Keith knows of the importance of their mission, knows that the universe can't possibly wait any longer for Voltron, he can't help but find himself hesitating. The Atlas towers over their heads, just like the castle of lions used to do, and with the familiarity of it comes pain and longing; the wish to stay and dwell in the peace for just a little longer.

There's countless goodbyes. Pidge hasn't gotten up from where she started cuddling her dog at least twenty minutes ago. Hunk and his family are exchanging hug after hug, and the smile on his face seems fake even from a distance. Allura, Coran and Romelle are busy talking to Samuel Holt, most likely about the mission. Lance is in his mother’s arms, and he's carrying his niece and nephew and, _god damn it_ , he's crying. Unlike everyone else, he doesn't even try to hide how much he doesn't want to go, how much he's missed his family and how much the thought of not being able to see them anymore _hurts_.

Keith feels his own resolve falter at the sight. He remembers a promise they all made a few weeks ago, when deciding when the ideal moment for departure would be: _Leave without regrets._ It felt manageable, back then, back when they still had enough time to spend with the people they loved, back when the possibility of getting hurt or even _killed_ in combat still seemed like a thing of the past.

They've all sworn to be ready by now, but neither of them is.

"You're having doubts," he hears Shiro's voice, right before a hand falls onto his shoulder heavily. It's the truth, so Keith doesn't try to deny it. _Just one more day_ , his mind begs. _Just one more chance for them to get ready_.

"It feels wrong," he finally admits doubtfully. "Tearing them from their families to fight a war they never signed up for. But I know I'm the leader now—I can't let them see how much it bothers me."

"That's not what I meant, but...sure."

Finally, he turns around to face his friend. If that's not what he meant, then what is? There's worry written all over his face, but he's smiling—melancholy, maybe even a little sad. Keith doesn't like that look on him.

"What are you talking about?" he inquires curiously, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms before his chest defensively. Something tells him he's in for a lecure. He _so_ doesn't want one right now; things are difficult enough as they are, and he's very well aware that he needs to keep it together. But instead of scolding him, Shiro shakes his head, his smile widening a little, yet his frown deepens.

"You should tell him."

The bubble in Keith's mind snaps—he's falling, grasping for air, unable to think of a witty comeback or even any answer at all. Out of all the possible things, he hasn't been expecting this at all, and he knows that his expression and silence are proof enough of that. It's why he doesn't try to deny it; there's really no point.

"We've had this before," he starts, turning back to where he's been watching his friends. Back to Pidge who's now grinning over a joke Matt told, to Hunk who's laughing about something his mother said, to the alteans who are now quietly talking to each other about things surely only them understand, and to Lance who...

He's trying. There's pain in his eyes and worry tainting his smile and he's trying so, so hard to hide it all, just to take the pain from his family, just to see them smile, just to pretend that everything is going to be okay.

But nothing is okay. And Keith knows that anything he could say wouldn't change a thing about that.

"Did we now?" Shiro tears him out of his thoughts with a teasing edge to the words, and Keith nods.

"We did. You said the same words back then, and I will repeat mine: Shiro, there's no point in bothering him with it."

"So you'd rather find yourself regretting you never said it, one day."

He takes a sharp breath, surprised by the angry, disappointed tone. Then he remembers, and realization rains down on him, makes him feel like the biggest moron on earth—and he understands. Feels it in the air between them, feels it bugging his mind, feels it everywhere. The reason Shiro is insisting on him saying it.

It's not so Keith gets it out of his system and has an easier time to move on. It's because...

"It's your decision, Keith."

He knows that.

"But I'd prefer you don't make the same mistake as I did."

He _knows_ that.

"It's different," he pleads, although his voice wavers with insecurity. Does it matter, really? Even if it is different, it doesn't change what he feels—doesn't change how many times he's thought it, how many times he's held back on spilling the words, for the sake of of friendship and comradery and peace. It doesn't change how much it hurts to keep it in and hide.

"I can't, Shiro. I'm not what he wants."

The smile grows, and Keith raises his eyebrow at it. Was that in any way a funny thing to say?

"Maybe you're not," Shiro agrees with a short nod. "But who knows? Maybe you're just what he _needs_."

With that, he lets go and heads toward the Atlas, leaving Keith to his thoughts and worries and doubts. _Need_. He's never seen himself as in indispensable part of anyone's life, at least not in the way he knows Shiro means it. What can he even offer? As the pilot of the black lion, Keith knows of his importance for the universe. He knows he needs to keep going.

But should he truly bother anyone with his own feelings? Should he bother Lance with them, especially now? It feels like an unfair burden to put on his shoulders.

Keith can't, however, deny that Shiro is at least _a bit_ right. He's been carrying these feelings around for way too long, and he's found himself wanting to give voice to them multiple times, but it never felt right. Whenever he managed to close the distance far enough for just him and Lance to hear, whenever he felt like it was the perfect opportunity, he would find his resolve falter and the words get stuck in his throat.

 _You're not what he wants_ , Keith would keep telling himself, over and over and over. _You'll never be what he wants._

He thinks he's come to terms with it—all things considered, their friendship has grown far stronger than he ever expected it to. They trust each other, work flawlessly as a team, balance out whatever weaknesses the other could have. A combination of close and ranged combat, of initiative and wits, of fire and ice, they're more than just _the leader_ and _the right-hand man._ They're a unity. They're one.

Outside of the battlefield, though, Keith finds it hard to categorize just what they are—the constant bickering from when they initially met has long but ended, which he appreciates, and he likes to think that they're at least _friends_ , but other than that...

 _Screw it_ , he thinks, his feet already moving. If not his feelings, there's a million other things he could and wants to say to Lance before they leave for their final mission, and Keith knows that if he says _none_ of them out loud, he's going to regret it. While approaching, he can see Lance's family let go of him and take enough steps away so the Atlas can depart safely, and he's smiling and waving and wiping away a tear or a hundred, his free hand clenched to a fist, but never looking down.

 _He's grown strong_ , Keith realizes, and finds that he's, in a way, proud of that—not that Lance needs him to be proud for it to count, but still.

"Hey, sharpshooter."

He's a little surprised at how thin his voice is, at how little he actually knows what to say. Maybe he should've planned this through, but it's too late for that now. Instead, he watches Lance's eyes go wide, watches him turn and shake his head, probably to free it from his thoughts, his longing wish to stay with his family and forget about space and war. It's a short-lived moment, though, because he's grinning again quickly, an eyebrow raised and his head slightly tilted. He's putting on a mask.

"Are you good?" Keith asks without any pressure or spite to it. The nod he gets in return is a bit shy, hesitant, so he hums to inquire more information. When Lance doesn't give any, he continues.

"It's fine if you're not. I imagine it isn't easy for you."

"Are you mad?"

Unsure if he's heard that correctly, Keith frowns and shakes his head.

"Mad? About what?"

"D-dunno. You kept staring at me," Lance explains and looks away nervously, scratching the back of his head and chucking to hide his insecurity. Secretly, Keith is glad about it—that way he doesn't have to explain the faint blush rising to his cheeks to either Lance or himself. Still, he knows that he should give at least some sort of explanation for his _staring_.

"I wanted to make sure you're okay," he explains, which is partly true and partly made up to hide the fact that he, honestly, very often stares at Lance for no rational reason whatsoever. The embarrassment of it seems to go unnoticed, though.

"You seemed the least ready to go, out of everyone."

"I'm not."

Lance seems to regret the words right after blurting them out, a painful expression spreading on his face, just short of disgust. He backs away a little, lowers his head and looks up sheepishly, trying to make himself smaller. From the looks of it, he's expecting a lecture, a scolding or anything of the likes, but Keith isn't here for any of those. He wonders, albeit quietly to himself, what happened in the past that made Lance so wary of being faced with disappointment, but swallows the question right away. It doesn't matter; what's important is to change this mindset in the future.

"I-I know it's selfish," Lance goes on, gesturing around wildly, maybe to emphasize his genuineness and how hard he's trying. "I mean, I've had months to spend with my family, all the while people out there have been...suffering, waiting for our help. I know I'm not in the position to play around, a-and I should be ready to fight for a better future, but...it's so much to take."

His voice dies at the last words and he finally looks down at his feet in shame, a deep frown tainting his features. He's worried, insecure, and visibly fearing for the answers he might get.

Keith doesn't think he needs to be.

"It's fine, Lance," he begins softly, loudly enough to be heard, quietly enough to count as a careful whisper. "I think all of us have made some selfish decisions in the past, or at least wished to do so. Remember how often Pidge or I intended to leave, or actually _did_?"

"S-sure, but—"

"Or the amount of times Hunk tried to get out of battles we all knew had to be fought? Said he wanted to go home rather than on a mission?"

"Yeah, sure, but that's not—"

"It _is_ the same."

It was a little louder than intended, but not enough so to instigate a fight—Keith simply wanted to make this clear. Not a single one of them was free of flaws. Wishing to stay home was something they wouldn't be able to blame Lance for, especially if it really was only a wish, and not something he acted upon.

"Indecisiveness doesn't make for the best support though," he continues then, now with a visible pout on his lips. The statement is a little confusing, so Keith raises an eyebrow, tilts his head and crosses his arms before his chest, waiting for a more detailed explanation.

"I-I mean, I'm supposed to be...your backup, right? Second in command? Your stability when you lose the way? But how can I do any of that if I can't even make a decision? I'm not the right-hand man you deserve, Keith."

Keith drops his arms, unsure if he heard it correctly, unsure how to deal with it, unsure how it ever came to this. He realizes, then and there, that he's not the only one who's bottled up his feelings for a long time. He decides, in the very same moment, that he's sick of it, that he wants the weird tension between the two of them gone, that he wants to be able to go on this mission and fight with their lives at stake without regretting a choice he's made, without fearing that he's missed an opportunity, without thinking back to what could have been.

He takes a step forward, grabs Lance's shoulders and closes the distance between them enough that their nose tips are almost touching. In him rises the urge to lean in just a little bit more, but he fights it, tells himself that this isn't what he's here for—he wants to do it, definitely, surely, one day, when the time is right, but now, he simply smiles instead, brushes their noses together, squeezes Lance's shoulders, focuses on his beautiful, sad, deep ocean-blue eyes, and makes sure to choose his words carefully, but genuinely. He needs to speak this truth, and Lance needs to hear it.

"I don't know what you believe I deserve, but I will assure you that you're just the right-hand man I _need_."

Keith lets the words sink in, for only a moment, but doesn't let Lance answer anything to them. Perhaps the rest of the words are a little more filled with emotions, with his own feelings, than Keith initially intended them to, but as they fill the air between them, it's as if they're all that's ever needed to be said:

"And I promise you, you're the only one I'd ever want."

With that, he lets go, a supportive smile still on his lips, and maybe he enjoys the way Lance blushes, opens and closes his mouth wordlessly, completely at a loss for what to reply to the confession. Maybe that's enough for Keith to go on.

Judging from the way Lance eventually chuckles, rubs his face to hide his embarrassment, and then pulls him into a short but tight hug before letting go and, with a huge grin on his lips, runs ahead towards the Atlas, Keith believes that maybe, it's just enough for _both_ of them.

Maybe, _hopefully,_ they are exactly what the other truly _needs_.


End file.
